Red And White Makes Pink Right?
by Kelly Greyer
Summary: "Closing the box I empty the contents on the top of it. The bill is rolled, the terrible line is pushed apart and my head goes down. It's a lot. Maybe more than I've ever done. But I'm desperate. And these tears are aggravating." How did Jean of all people develop an addiction?


A/N: Here's another one shot for you guys. Two things. 1: This is written from 18-20 year old Jean's perspective and employs the first class cast except with Ororo also a part of it. They are all teenagers.  
2: **Important **I have a new twitter associated with all your Kelly Greyer fanfict needs. Follow me at: KellyGreyer You can pester me about updating a story, slide me ideas that you want me to write about, let me know to read your stories, or just say hi and talk about whatever. I don't care, follow me and abuse the tweet button! All story updates and things related will be there! Now, please read, enjoy, and review!

* * *

Red and white makes pink right?

I think I remember learning that somewhere. Ha. Somewhere, where the hell do you usually learn things? School genius, duh. I sit back on the cracked leather couch and smile to myself if only for a second. My eyes are closed, there's nothing in here to see anyway. I barely even know the people around me. I _**don't**_ know the people around me. But we share a common interest. I'm pretty and they have unlimited bills. I'm bored and they have a bit of fun. The same bit that I've been gambling with for some time now huh.

How long has it been anyway?

I laugh aloud to myself, who knows and who gives a shit. I sure don't. But red and white...

There's something vibrating on my hip, no, my phone is vibrating on my hip. _Come on Jean, snap out of it you've got common sense right?_ I look down at the name that flashes on the touch screen of my iPhone. I still have one of those. I'll stop when things get so bad that I don't think twice about swapping this out for a good time. As long as I don't crave so bad I start to sell my own shit I'm good and this is all under control. I laugh at that as if I'm outsmarting myself.

Pretty girls don't have to buy their own blow.

"Hey Scott."

"Jean where are you?!" I can hear the scowl in his tone. I imagine now that his jaw is set, his posture is tense, and his eyebrows are low and angry. Oh my Scott, he's always got something to be worried or scared or upset about. Especially these days, especially since he started dating me. Were we even really dating anymore? We had a fight didn't we? Damn, what was that about? Oh yeah, he flushed a bunch of what was **_definitely not_** sugar down the toilet. I laugh again. How did I even convince him of that? Oh right, telepath duh. Haha but I made a mess of that didn't I? Damn, I was out of it and that was only temporary. When was that even?

Oh well, who gives a shit.

"Hey babe." Oh, I said that already. The thick thump of the bass is smothered behind doors now, so much that I can barely even hear it, I wonder if he can...

"You can tell me where you are or I can have the Professor track you down." I should care right now, damn it I should really care shouldn't I? Maybe if I cared more I would lie, try to get home, try and cover my tracks. I think I've gone too far out on this ledge though, I don't think there's any real going back.

"Last chance Jean."

"Well..." Someone sitting next to me nudges me and I sit up and open my eyes again with a smile. I pull the rolled hundred-dollar bill from his hand. It was my idea to use it. Was it necessary? No. Did I have plenty of other things to use? Yes. Sure it's flashy and kind of lame but if I'm in, I am all the way in. It's way too funny to think about anyway, I can imagine the way he shifts angrily as he hears my laughter coming into his ear. I slide the phone up and cock my head while bringing my shoulder up to secure the phone so that I could use my hands. I press my left middle finger to my left nostril and slide the bill in my right hand up my other nostril as I lean down. One big sniff, one big clean line. My red hair falls over my shoulders and onto the table I'm leaning over, red and white. I smile to myself as I slowly exhale, dropping the bill and sitting back again. I know he heard me do that line, I know it and I love it.

I smile at his silence.

"I'm coming to get you." His voice is stern and I move my head, letting my phone drop to the couch I'm sitting on. I rub at my nose. I don't see what the big deal is, I'm fine...I'm safe...I'm happy...

"I'm high as fuck." The room erupts in laughter at my outward omission. I hear my voice join in but the room is such a daze. I can't remember how I got here but I know I don't want to leave. He'll find me eventually, but I've got some time to spare, just enough time.

"Oh my god Jean you're like the best type of person!" I look over to the girl clinging onto my arm and smile at her. Damnit what's your name? She wraps a skinny arm around my neck and pulls me into a hug. Normally I would resist the contact, but I'm too damn out if it to care. I wonder if any of my real friends would ever come with me... Maybe I'll ask next time. I place my foot on the edge of the table and lay back again as my eyes slowly shut. Holding onto myself trying to get a little bit of sleep before next time.

* * *

"Jean!" I hear a bit of shuffling, people pushing their way into the room where I'm at. They don't sound happy, they don't sound unfamiliar. But it's because I know them. But I'm so tired; I just want to keep sleeping. Maybe if I pretend to be dead they'll go away.

"Jean!" Another yell and I can't help it. I open my eyes and look up at two of my best friends. No. My best friend and my maybe still boyfriend? They don't look happy, but when is Scott or Ororo ever really happy these days? Maybe they should try this. She's pulling me to my feet whilst he threatens the guys on the couch. He figures that he can scare them out of hanging with me. Maybe it would've worked.

But here I am with my pretty face and my bored attitude and my likable high.

They couldn't stay away. Just as sure as I wouldn't they couldn't.

Ororo has one hell of a grip on my arm but I don't fight her. I've got nothing to run away from nor anything really worth running too. I'm just thinking about my bed and the next time… I wave a goodbye as Ororo wraps her other arm around my waist and escorts me out of the room and out of the house. My feet are dragging, I'm almost stumbling. But I'm fine. I could _totally_ pass a field sobriety test right now. I'm practically thrown into the back seat and they enter the driver's and passenger's side.

"Somebody's angry." I antagonize them now. God, when did I get so into being mean? The ride home felt too quick. I could have sworn I was farther away from the institute than this.

"Can you even get out on your own?" Ororo's voice is low and almost disgusted with me as she and Scott stand there staring at me.

But I'm fine. I can handle this just fine. I slide over the seat and step out with no problem, they want to see me fall, they want to see me hurt.

But I'm fine, and I won't do that for them.

* * *

"I'm fine." I speak into my hands with a sigh of boredom and not an ounce of defeat. They've had me on house arrest for the past week but it's not like I care. If I really wanted to get out I could do it in a second.

Telepathic telekinetic over here remember?

"You are absolutely not fine." It's Ororo's turn to talk this time and she's pissed. What the hell does she even care? I've never asked her, I've never forced this on her.

My life is my own.

If I'd rather do lines atop of my Harvard acceptance letter then let me.

If I want to sit in my room alone and high, using my balled up acceptance letters to NYU and Columbia University as paper basketballs to shoot into the trashcan across the room then let me.

It's my life I'm quite literally throwing away, not theirs.

"Jean you have a drug problem and we simply want to help you. You've come so far, done so much good and have so much more to do. We are all here because we love you and want to help you get better Jean." The Professor has a temper, he has a temper and he's trying to control it. I don't appreciate this little intervention they've staged. I mean, the formality of it all is cute but when half of the participants just look like they want to pummel me it kind of loses its flare.

And I'm pretty over it.

I look up at Scott. I can always find his eyes behind his shades. He's staring at me again, angry and staring. What the hell is the big deal?!

"Well I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree then?" I don't have a drug problem.

Problems are inconvenient.

Problems are aggravating.

Problems cause more problems.

None of the above is happening to me.

"No Jean we won't. We were hoping you would be able to understand..." The Professor is cut off by Scott.

"But just like most coke heads you don't." I glare at him and so does the Professor, he doesn't want Scott baiting me. He doesn't want me to completely shut down at what he's about to do to me.

"This has gone way too far Jean. I've arranged for you to be entered into a rehabilitation program. A facility located a little ways from here." The rest of the boys were silent until that. Warren, Hank, and Bobby shift uncomfortably. They were almost in-synch actually. But I still roll my eyes at this nonsense. I don't care what he has arranged for me to do.

"You don't believe him?" Ororo leans against a wall behind me and I don't bother to look at her, I simply laugh.

"I don't want to, so I won't."

"Jean at this point, you don't have a choice." Did Charles Xavier just threaten me?

"Professor I appreciate the concern but do you really think you can find any place that can hold a telepath telekinetic such as myself?" I'm curious as to how he plans on pulling that off.

"I do." I look him in the eyes for the first time this entire little meeting. There's something brewing in his mind and I don't like it.

"Well I don't intend on sticking around to find out how." I stand but Ororo is right there, right there ready and challenging me.

"Jean the summer is only just begun, if you get help now there is still even time for you to attend the university of your choice by the spring semester!" Hank tries pleading with me now. He knows how much I use to want that. I _was_ crazy about Columbia; all the other Ivy League schools were just to prove that I could get in.

And get in I did.

But things change.

And I get bored.

"Good to know!" Sarcasm is dripping from my voice as I give him a thumbs up while telekinetically sliding Ororo out of the way. The door swings open at my will.

"Where are you going?!" Scott yells. It seems I've shaken him from his stoic reverie. I turn on my heels and face them all and I throw my arms out to my sides.

"To go do a line!" I'm honest as I let my arms fall and I turn.

But they're after me.

I don't bother running as my head starts to pound. This is exactly what I didn't want. Damn, am I crying? God why am I crying? I don't even care.

I don't.

I don't.

I don't.

I'm fine.

I'm safe.

I'm happy.

I'm not high.

"Jean!" Ororo grabs my wrist and pulls me back. She damn near rips my arm out of its socket. I grasp at my shoulder with my free hand.

I'm fine.

When my gaze meets hers she's crying.

I swear I don't care.

Scott isn't angry, he's heartbroken.

I'm happy.

The Professor isn't trying to get rid of me, he's desperate.

I'm safe.

The boys aren't uncomfortable they just don't know how to help me.

I want to get high.

I rip away from her and haul ass to my room. I have to get rid of these tears; I have to. My door slams and locks on its own and I hold it with a telekinetic barrier.

"Jean please." I get to my knees and reach below my bed. My fingertips trying to get a hold of a box that I have to grab at several times before I can pull it out. I ignore the pleading and banging behind my door. I open the box and grab a shoe out of it, an all black Chuck Taylor All Star high top. I reach into it and grab a little bag that's taped to the inside of the flimsy tongue and a crumpled ten-dollar bill inside of it. Closing the box I empty the contents on the top of it. The bill is rolled, the terrible line is pushed apart and my head goes down.

It's a lot.

Maybe more than I've ever done.

But I'm desperate.

And these tears are aggravating.

My red hair falls over my shoulders and onto the top of the box I'm leaning over. Falling into a small pile of the white powder I've wanted so badly. Red and white makes pink.

I'm fine.

I'm happy.

I'm safe.

I'm high.

I can more easily tune out the noise behind my door. You can't imagine how loud a heart breaking can be. I sit back on my heels with my hands on my hips. I look out in front of me and there's my mirror. Sitting right there staring at me. Forcing me to stare at myself. I've lost a lot of weight. Weight I hadn't wanted to lose, or even noticed that I did. I couldn't tell with my head to all those mahogany surfaces. My nose is bleeding. When the hell did that happen? I wipe at the blood that continues to fall as I stare at myself.

I'm fine.

I'm safe.

I'm happy.

I'm high.

I am. I swear I am. I swear I don't care. But the girl in front of me. Whoever she is.

She's broken.

She's killing herself.

She's hurting.

She's high.

I let my TK hold on the door go and my friends, no, her friends burst through. Ororo is the first to her. I watch through the mirror as the white haired teen wraps her arms around her neck. Ororo cries and suddenly she's crying with her.

I'm scared.

I'm lonely.

I'm defeated.

I'm high. And I don't want to be. Not anymore.

I look down at the box below me, the bright red blood that dripped from my nose mixes into the familiar white powder.

Red and white makes pink right?

My name is Jean Grey.

And I'm an addict.


End file.
